Drawing the Circle
by ElfFlame
Summary: Draco makes a list to find Harry's weaknesses. preslash HPDM


So, I adore this couple, and I will probably write at least a couple more stories about these two.  This one's much shorter than Draco's Draught.  Just a fun little one-shot that came to mind one day.  Hope you like it.  

The bit about Sirius is not my thoughts on the matter, it's just how I think Draco'd see things.  The title is from a quote I found, which you can read at the end of the piece.

Slash warnings, people.  If you don't like that kind of stuff, don't read it.

Oh, and they're not mine, but I just had to borrow them.  I'll put them back as soon as I'm done, promise. ;)

Drawing the Circle 

By Elfflame

With more than five years of schooling behind him, Draco knew three things absolutely: his father could do anything, Dumbledore was a sentimental old fool, and that Draco could _always _drive Harry Potter to distraction.  The problem was, Harry Potter could do the same to Draco.  And, as Draco's father was constantly telling him, that power, in the hands of an enemy, was completely unacceptable.

So Draco decided it was time for drastic action.  The first step, he decided, was to find out everything he could about his foe.  How better to discover his weaknesses?

He tried to be subtle about following Potter, but white hair does not help when one is trying to be stealthy.  Each time he tried to covertly trail his prey, those emerald eyes always found him.  "What do you want, _Malfoy_?"  And so they would exchange insults, then Draco would make a show of turning on his heel and striding confidently away.

That was another thing Draco's father was constantly drilling into his head: always leave while you have the upper hand, but never stay if you do not.  And since Draco made sure never to bring his blundering bodyguards on his "missions," he always left as soon as he could without looking too weak.  Often with Weasel's taunting laughter following after him.

After several such confrontations, Draco decided to try a different tactic.  Late one night after the rest of his dorm-mates had all dropped off to sleep, Draco began to list all the things he knew about Harry Potter.

Well, for one thing, Potter was an orphan.  That was an easily exploitable weakness.  Draco'd used that one many times.  But like anything, it was becoming rather threadbare from being used far too much.  And as satisfying as it had been to use it, causing not only him but the Weasel twins to be banned from Quidditch last year, Harry had been re-instated as Gryffindor Seeker shortly after arriving at the beginning of this year.  Far too short-lived, as far as Draco was concerned.

And, too, there were those Muggle relations of his, but that was far harder to provoke Harry with.  Usually he would tell Draco to just shut up, or that he really didn't know what he was talking about, then turn away, and ignore any further jabs.

There was that mutt godfather of his, but, Draco chuckled to himself, that was _literally _a dead issue, though mentioning anything having to do with canines usually got Potter's goat.

            So what else was there?  There was the fact that the Dark Lord was always after him…but that one made Draco uncomfortable.  Sure, he was the son of one of the Dark Lord's greatest followers, but just thinking about the thing that had once been a man, but was now something else entirely left Draco feeling queasy and weak.  Not something he wanted Potter to notice.

There was the fact that Snape hated Potter, but that didn't help much either.  For one, when they were glaring daggers at each other, Draco either didn't exist for either of them.  For another, when he _was_ noticed, he was usually used by Snape as a weapon against Potter.  Not something Draco wanted to encourage.

And while Draco enjoyed tormenting Potter's sidekicks, he was far more likely to get Weasley's goat when he jeered at them than Potter's. 

How exactly could any of these things help him?  Not at all.  

So what could he do?

The next morning, Draco pulled out a blank notebook and started a list, beginning with the facts he had thought of the night before.  _Orphaned.__  Lives with Muggles, who he hates.  Godfather (dog animagus) dead.  The Dark Lord is constantly trying to kill him.  Snape hates him.  Granger & Weasley are his best friends.  _He carried it with him everywhere, adding facts as the day went on, (_Muggle hand-me down clothes under his robes.)  _watching Potter out of the corner of his eyes.  Occasionally Potter would be looking in his direction, (_Scar.  Pale skin.  Black hair that is never combed properly.) _which often startled him into looking directly at him, (_Wears glasses.  Very green eyes.)_ at which Potter would glare, then look away.  

He watched him in class.  _Right handed.  Uses brightly colored ink.  Chews on the end of his quill when thinking.  _He watched him at meals.  _Usually late to breakfast.__  Prefers bacon to sausage.  Seems to enjoy shepherd's pie.  _He watched him during Quidditch matches, both the ones he was in, and the ones he only watched.  _Seeker.__  Beats everyone to the snitch—when he's not disabled.  Always gets up early on the mornings he's playing._

By the end of the week, Draco had filled a page.  Much of the list had to do with things that seemed more like strengths than weaknesses, however.  But Draco reveled in the few weaknesses he did possess, sure that eventually he would discover more. 

            But he kept adding to the list, and soon the list had taken on a life of its own.  He no longer felt secure leaving his dorm without the notebook.  Both because he didn't trust his dorm-mates, and because he might find something new to put in it, and forget it before he returned to his dorm.  He also found himself waking in the middle of the night, a new item to add to the list bubbling up from his unconsciousness.  

            The other sixth-year Slytherins soon noticed Draco's distraction.  Blaise, annoyed over being ignored when he asked Draco for the forth time about the latest potions assignment, growled, "What the bloody hell is so fascinating in that ruddy notebook," Draco shrugged, but continued to read the entries—he read them about once a day now, they were his touchstone, a personal mantra, as though if he read them enough, he would find that ultimate weapon that he needed so desperately.

            Crabbe and Goyle were surprisingly concerned for their friend.  Never, in all the years they had known each other, had Draco brushed them off as much as he had been in the last few weeks.  And each time they found him again, he was always scribbling in that book of his.  But what could they do?  Though neither boy was nearly as stupid as most believed them, Draco was the one who made plans for them, and came up with things for them to do.  Without Draco to lead them, they were lost.

            Soon Pansy was also clued in.  And when Pansy went out of her way to find something out, everyone had to be on their guard.  One afternoon, shortly after the quietest potions lesson any of the Slytherins could recall (Snape had taken only 25 points from the Gryffindors that day, five from Potter for glaring at him as he entered, and the rest from Longbottom when he had turned his partner bright green with his flubbed potion), Pansy noticed Draco sitting in the common room, scribbling away in the notebook.

            "What's this, Draco?" she asked, snatching it from his hands.  

            He quickly snatched it back, his seeker reactions the only thing saving him from the total humiliation he knew would be due if anyone in his house got a good look at the notebook.  "Just a journal."  He snapped it shut, and quickly charmed it so that it would be sealed to anyone but him.

            Her eyes glowed.  "A journal?  Draco Malfoy has a journal?"  She plopped down next to him, and leaned in close.  "What do you write about?  Homework?  Nefarious plots?  Crushes?" the last sounded just a bit hopeful.

            The icy look Draco sent her would have stopped a student from any of the other houses in their tracks.  Unfortunately, Pansy was a Slytherin.  "Let me guess.  'Dear Diary, today Potter passed by me in the hall, and I stuck out my foot and tripped him.  Snape gave me ten points for knowing information even the basest first year should know, and my father ignored me again…'"

            The growl that came from him finally stopped her in mid-sentence.  "Pansy, if you don't shut up right now, the curse I use on you will have you sitting backwards at meals for a week."  Then to forestall her answer, he stood and stormed from the room.

            But now he knew.  He had a problem. A five foot eight, green-eyed, tousled-black-haired problem.  And he wasn't going to go away any time soon.  This had gone beyond its original purpose.  If anyone were to read his notebook on Harry, they would think that he had a thing for him.  And that was ridiculous.

            It was time to throw in the towel, perhaps.  Not that Potter didn't have weaknesses, of course, but that Draco wasn't going to find them this way.  Perhaps it was time to confront him, let him know that Draco was planning something.  That would make him panic…wouldn't it?  The more Draco thought about it, the better this idea sounded.  And so he began to plan.

The next morning, at breakfast, he watched as his eagle owl landed in front of Potter, and watched his nemesis's face as he read the note.  It was a simple note, telling Potter that he needed to see him to tell him something important, and that Draco would be in a certain room at a certain time, and that Potter would not like the consequences if he did not show.  Potter's eyes flashed when he looked up to see Draco watching him from across the room, and then he nodded, once.  Good.  They were on.  And this time, the gloves were off.  Potter would regret this.  Draco smiled and returned to his breakfast, happier than he had been in weeks.

He knew Potter had his own ways of sneaking around the castle, and Draco, of course, as a prefect, could be wherever he wanted to be for several hours past curfew, so he waited until all the rest of the Slytherins had returned to the common room, then disappeared to the meeting place he had arranged.

He was the first to arrive.  Potter was nowhere in sight.  He had chosen a small classroom on the second floor, complete with a fireplace, so that he wouldn't be cold if he had to wait.  And it seemed now that it was a good precaution.  Draco cast a spell at the grate, and soon a crackling fire warmed the room.  There was a small overstuffed chair in one corner, obviously discarded from the teacher's lounge or someone's office, as it looked as though it had seen better days.  He pulled it towards the fire, and pulled out his notebook.  

It was the last time he would read it.  After his little confrontation with Potter, he planned to burn it.  He hadn't wanted to leave it in his dorm, just in case someone went looking for it.  He didn't want anyone to ever read this again.  Not even Draco himself.  But one last time shouldn't hurt, right?

Time passed, and the warmth of the fire and the comfort of the chair conspired against him.  The next thing he knew, he felt a hand on his.  He had fallen asleep, and Potter was kneeling in front of him.  Holding the notebook.

Potter looked pink.  As though he were embarrassed.  But Draco hadn't done anything yet.  Why…and then he realized.  He jumped up out of the chair, and snatched the book from Potter.  "You…read it?"  His face blazed with heat, but he could not stop himself.  "How dare you!"

Potter clambered to his feet, and backed away from him.  "I…Draco, look, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean…"

Draco's voice was cold.  "Oh, Potter?  What did you mean?"  He stalked across the room after Potter.  Soon there was no place left for him to run, and he found himself pressed against the wall of the classroom, Draco's snarling face inches from his own.

"I…I…just…"

"Oh, spit it out, Potter!  You just what?"

He closed his eyes.  "I came in before you, and saw you reading…and I just wondered what had you so enraptured."  Those eyes opened, and now it was Draco who was at a loss, drowning in green.  "I didn't know it would be…me," Harry whispered.

Draco wanted to spit back at him that he didn't get it, couldn't possibly comprehend, when Harry's hand began to caress his cheek, and the world around them faded.  All the words seemed to disappear, as though they had never existed.  Then he realized that the other boy was whispering something to him.

"…Wish I'd known sooner, Draco.  We never had to be enemies.  You're so…beautiful."

Draco's heart was in his throat.  Did Harry mean what he thought?  He licked his lips, trying to clear the cotton from his mouth.  If only he could just look away from those eyes for just a moment.  Gather his thoughts a bit.  But they held him as though they were Devil's Snare.  He began to tremble, and the notebook fell from his boneless fingers.  "What…are you saying what I think…?" he managed.

The smile that crept across Harry's face was like sunlight after a thunderstorm.  Bright, cleansing, and beautiful.  "Draco, I feel the same way.  But I always assumed that you hated me."

A hoarse laugh broke from Draco's throat, but it was pitiful, sad, as though there were no happiness left in the world.  Hate.  What was hate, after all, but the flip side to another emotion?  "H…Harry…"

"Shh, Draco, I understand."  He leaned towards his former foe, brushing his lips lightly against the other boy's.  Draco sighed.  Harry's lips were soft, gentle.  They told him he could take all the time he needed.  All the time he wanted.  All the time in the world. 

And he did.

He drew a circle that shut me out --  
Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout.  
But love and I had the wit to win:  
We drew a circle that took him in.

- Edwin Markham


End file.
